camp STINKY || Grooming

H

Honeysong

Guest

The marsh was such a dreary place, filled with weary souls who's hearts needed a long rest from the tortures of misfortune that life so enjoys dishing out to them.

She loved her clan. This was her home.

But she has to admit, some of her clanmates we're.....Lacking in the self care department. Every night she dreaded going into the warriors den because of the smell.

Her poor clanmates, so down on their spirits that they didn't care for themselves anymore. That was fine. She would take care of them for them.

So, with the usual pep in her step, she trotted over to the nearest cat who offended her nose and started grooming them behind the ear.


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Smogmaw smelt of swamp - more so than usual. The tabby hasn't adequately cleansed the muck from his fur since the dissociative episode in the mud pool. It clung to his pelt and skin like a bastard, baked dry from the sun's rays. He still isn't entirely sure on what he'd been trying to accomplish by wading into chest-high sludge, but the resulting unpleasant sensation (and stink) isn't an outcome that he had envisioned.

He's minding his own business just a fox-leap away from the fresh-kill pile, having just returned from a hardly successful hunt. His typical expression of mixed dissatisfaction and gloom is present in his features, though it fizzles away the very moment he senses a time-honoured feeling on the back of his skull.

A clanmate - for an inexplicable reason - took to his fetid body with their tongue. His eyes roll up in delectation as an involuntary sigh of relief escapes his maw, and as much as he wishes to look back and glimpse his groomer, the tom's noggin does not budge an inch. "Oh, that's the spot," he muses aloud. He cannot recall the last time he's been on the receiving end of a good tongue-sharing, but even someone as unrefined as him enjoyed the act.

Smogmaw knows that an important aspect of tongue-sharing etiquette is gossiping. A little bit of fluffy news for the contributor's sake. "Uh, did'ja hear that Frostbite lost a fight against some frogs?" he offers in a wry tone. "Poor guy was- hey, can you go a bit lower- was crying for his mommy by the time I found him."​

 
The whole business of grooming was something rather beyond Loam.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy being clean, or even that she didn't want to take the time for it. Occasionally, Loam would smooth the fur of her chest down, and then chew at the fleas that dotted her flank for good measure. Moreso, it was that Loam particularly good at grooming herself. The process of it seemed complicated. Before, her mother and brothers always handled it. Now, Loam is matted more often than not.

"Me next!" Loam shouts, as soon as she sees what Honeysong and Smogmaw are doing, "My t-tuh-tuh-turn next!"​
tags ∘ shadowclan kit ∘ solid black with hazel eyes ∘ curled front foot ∘ 5 moons​
 
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❝ holding it together with one loose string. ❝
it felt like an oddity to come across clanmates actively participating in sharing tongues, especially when half of their residents lacked basic self-care and proceeded to march around looking like overgrown rats. sure, they didn't live in the most lucious of spaces with flowers to roll in but it wouldn't kill anyone to have the clan look even a little presentable.

as geckoscreech sauntered over, she noted smogmaw regaling honeysong with a tale of frostbite's incident with a bunch of frogs that brought forth a noise of both disbelief and amusement from the former queen. "is that what all the hollaring was about?" she questions, allowing herself to get comfortable besides the ebony kitten. "it might take them a bit so i'll help you out instead." she hums, reaching out a paw to scoop loam closer in order to start grooming matted fur. ​
 
gossip within the clan... guess it was better than in-fighting, right? as they sat, they gently groomed their chest, being careful to be very gentle. they still were healing a bit, but it would be alright within a few days. their ears perked up slightly before they gently moved to nudge @MINKPAW , cleaning behind their young brother's ears, before giving him a gentle nudge and a small smile.

"how are you to impress all the other toms if you've got dirt behind your ears?"

they laugh quietly, a smile on their face. they were joking, of course, but it would be funny to see his reaction.
​
[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​
 
..... The last time he could remember being groomed by anyone other than himself was when he was barely knee-high to a warrior, feverishly licked down by his mother as though her final gesture of affection could ward away his sickness. The memories were hazy now, fogged over as much as the marshes they dwelled in. Some part of him wanted to believe that she really had cured him at that moment, but... Brookpaw shook his head, clearing away any silly thoughts like that.

..... He perched awkwardly nearby, a blank look on his speckled features as he eavesdropped. While he stifled a giggle at the frog story, he didn't necessarily have the courage to approach. He just... wasn't good enough friends with anyone yet! Yeah, that's why. The dark-furred apprentice turned his attention to his own muddy paws. Traipsing around in the muck seemed to have left them permanently grimy, concealing the lighter fur beneath. Maybe he really did stink. Reluctantly, he swiped a tongue over a forepaw, partially turning his back to the other cats present.​
 
minkpaw hates physical contact. it makes his skin crawl, like a million stupid ants have wormed their way underneath his thick fur. anyone who dares to brush against him is doomed to have an angry apprentice shouting at them, or, on a bad day, smacking them.

minkpaw hates physical contact, except for when it is chilledgaze.

he's sat beside them, fidgeting while he grooms his pelt... if grooming could even describe the haphazardly, hasty swipes of his tongue over random patches of fur. their sides barely brush against each other, but for minkpaw, this close proximity is the ultimate show of trust. and then, they lean over and nudge him. minkpaw ducks his head, allowing his sibling to groom behind his ears with a rumbling purr he does not care to hide.

his eyes drift closed, and aside from the occassional twitch of a tail or scrunching of a nose, the apprentice appears completely relaxed.

that is, until chilledgaze comments on how he would never impress all the toms with dirt on him. minkpaw splutters, cheeks burning. he pulls back to blow a raspberry at them, eyes screwed up and hind leg thumping against the ground. "wh- nuh- you- ewwwww!" romance is gross, he thinks with a huff. no way would he ever participate in something so icky!

he isn't truly upset with chilledgaze; he never could be upset with his older sibling. within heartbeats his head bumps against their chest, silently asking for them to continue sharing tongues with him.​
 

"Oh-GROSS! Gag me! Why are you grooming stinky Smogmaw?! He smells like he rolls in stagnant water every morning to wake up! UGH! You should let me go next, my mother says I'm a god damn delight!"
White paws slapped merrily upon the ground as she wandered over, pushing her way to the forefront and nudging past Minkpaw and Chilledgaze to put herself at the center of the gathered cats where she was most likely to be heard and seen; as was proper. She huffs at Loam calling dibs and gives a snort of a laugh when Geckoscreech takes it upon herself to grab her instead, thus freeing Honeysong up to give HER attention next; if only stinky Smogmaw wasn't in the way. "HEY! BROOKPAW! Since I gotta wait my turn do ya want me to groom you for you? I insist!" And she sprang forward toward him, preparing to clean that brown pelt to the best of her unskilled abilities whether he liked it or not. If he ran she would chase him, if he did not she would attempt to squash him into the ground.
​
 

Honeysong was pleased not to be rejected. Now Smogmaw will be CLEAN. Lower, he says, and so she does. The honey furred molly giggles at his recount of Frostbite's misfortune.

"He's lucky he didn't get eaten! Do you think frogs can get that big??" She asked. Could they? If you left them alone, would they get that big????

That would be terrible! Good thing they were controlling the population!

She had drawn in a few more cats, to her delight. More friends! She smiled at all of them.

"Don't worry, everyone will get a turn~!" She said as Loam piped up. Honeysong was thankful for Geckoscreech joining her in grooming.

"Brookpaw, come over here! No need to be shy~!" She called to the tom that had turned his back to them.


Poppypaw was indeed a delight. She watched her try to bowl poor Brookpaw over with amusement. See, her clan was wonderful and loving! They were just sad. Battered by misfortune.

And until they could smile genuinely again, she would try to care for them.
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